


Eomer and Lothiriel - a marriage of convenience. Will they make it work?

by queefqueen



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queefqueen/pseuds/queefqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eomer proposes to Lothiriel but seems unhappy about it. Lothiriel wants to make the marriage work. Yet Eomer is cold and heartless towards her. Will the birth of their son bridge the gap between them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eomer and Lothiriel - a marriage of convenience. Will they make it work?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnaFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFan/gifts), [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts), [For my muses](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=For+my+muses).



A Rider and a woman with a toddler on her hip hugged in a desperate embrace.

“I have to whore myself for three years and a day.”

“I know you must. Just come back to me.”

.................

“Lady Lothiriel, will you be the queen of the Mark?” the Horselord said in a trembling voice.

Seeing no rejection on her face he began to whisper fervently. The whisper was unnecessary, everybody having given the “dream pair” wide berth for the Horselord “to do it”.

“Circumstances force me to propose. My Lords are demanding I marry here and now, and any bride from the Mark will cause a Civil War. For its duration this marriage will be unpleasant to us both. Only your strong rejection of my suit will save us from much grief. Please!”

 

Lothiriel arched her porcelain-like swan neck and looked up at him. What a foolish boy! Her grise orbs glittered with merriment. So much man, to despair at the end of bachelorhood! He was not bad, as potential suitors went. And the one with highest position by far. Like so many couples in their situation they would learn to love one another. He certainly needed a woman like her, she was the perfect choice to make him happy. There might be a period of adjustment for them both, but surely they soon would form a contented couple.

“I accept your suit Eomer King.”

His shoulders slumped.

“So be it ... “ came from the kissing lips of the descendant of Eorl.

He extended his hand to the beautiful raven haired beauty with delicate elven features.

“M’lady?”

And led her towards the dais where Imrahil was almost jumping up and down in happiness. Aragorn’s mien was enigmatic, as befitted a fosterling of the Loremaster, his slate pools asking the Eorling the eternal question of the Second Born:

“Why?”

Eomer, ashamed of his weakness, just looked at the floor.

Avoiding Aragorn’s soul reading gaze, he looked at Imrahil and spoke quietly.

“The Lady Lothiriel said yes.”

............

“You are mad, mad as a March hare. This will be the death of you!”

“A risk I have to take. That clause must be there.”

"If they refuse?"

“Then there’s no wedding ... “

................

“Brother, cheer up! It’s your wedding! Eothain says that you wore such a grim mug when facing the Black Gates – what’s got into you! She’s pretty, kind, witty ... “

His sister, wallowing in marital bliss like a swine in filth, was simply splashing love and acceptance around her. And believing that everybody will love one another in the end. He could forgive her this attitude – he could forgive her a lot – but he did not share it. Not that he did not agree with the praises of his bride. She was all that and more, thus making the future even more painful to endure. He will have to be strong.

.............

“I take you as wife and swear to uphold the terms of the marriage contract!”

.............

Lothiriel was happy. This was her wedding day! She looked lovely in her gown and her hair was arranged in a most becoming manner. Now the wedding night. Some wine helped her ease her nerves and calm down the butterflies of anticipation in her lower belly. She knew she had nothing to fear on his part, he doubtlessly will be gentle. Oh, to hold him, in bed, nekkid ...

.............

They lay in bed.

“Shall we do our duty, or do you wish to put it off for some other day?”

GASP – “what about the sheets?”

“What sheets?”

“The ... the ones ... we are lying on. There should be ... my ... blood on them.”

“No such nonsense in the Mark. At dawn my Marshals and my brother in law will crawl here drunk to see us under my cloak.”

“But ... but ... the sheets!”

“Screw the sheets. Bloody them yourself, if you want!” came an exasperated snarl.

Throughout the sobbing behind his back Eomer gritted his teeth to stop himself from turning around and comforting the woman he did not love – and would never do – but was forced to hurt. He HAD warned her that marrying him was a bad idea, but hurting her still hurt. He was close to sobbing himself.

.......................

Lothiriel spent most of her days on the verge of tears or crying. Eomer ignored her. All her approaches to him met with indifference. Sometimes she though she caught pity when he looked at her. When she spoke with him about learning Rohirric, or taking over the running of Meduseld, he just shrugged his shoulders and said:

“Do as you wish.”

He came to her bed every other or third day, showing no enthusiasm for the act, and fled to his bedroom immediately afterwards. He never spoke anything, no terms of endearment, no caress. He only rubbed his manhood with a salve to make it slick.

............

Lothiriel’s pregnancy made Eomer feel elated with stud’s pride. It also made him feel a worm as he knew what he would have to do to her. Once she gave birth to a healthy boy he acknowledged him with love and held him, with a lump in his throat making him speechless. Then he fled to the stable where he wept into Firefoot’s mane. And then he acted upon those who had brought about his whole mess.

...............

The King of the Mark eyed the Royal Council. Traditionally it brought together ten lords – three each for the West- and Eastfold, one for the Wold and the three Marshalls. Three of the landed lords were holdovers from his uncle’s reign and half way towards being gaga. The other four had corned him at Cormallen, once it was clear that he survived the battle and held on to the Crown. With the lands and the men at their disposal he could not refuse them council places to replace the dead. They had carried the three elders along into hounding him into marriage.

Today he was stronger. Other Noble Houses – leaderless at that time – had found their heads by now, he also had the support of all the Officers of the Realm - now of his nomination.

First he thanked the elders for their long service and sent them to their retirement. Once the three new lords were in the room – promoted beyond their years by him, the four “Cormallen Lords” were offered the option of passing their lands to their heirs. Or else. A candlemark of time later they were galloping towards Dunharrow, on their way to the Crossings of Paros, to serve as instructors to Aragorn’s cavalry for the next five years.

..........................

Contrary to her hopes the child did not break down the barrier between them. It was visible that he loved the boy. But he still was cold towards her. When his eyes - beaming at the sight of his son – slipped onto her, his mien immediately became dark, troubled and pained. It was only the flurry of womenfolk around her that kept her from wailing all day along.

What more could she do to make him love her?!?

And he wasn’t wenching – he dutifully slept alone – that she could hear by herself – in his bedchamber next door.

WHAT WAS WRONG?!?

.......................

“Lady Lothiriel” – he croaked. After all this time they still were not on first name terms. He hated himself, but he had to do this.

“Yes, my Lord King?”

“Start pack ... no, I can’t put it this way ... “

He began anew. He swallowed.

“Our marriage contract says that our marriage can be terminated by a one sided declaration after three years and one day. I therefore terminate it. But Elfwine is - and always be - my legitimate firstborn son and Heir.

"WHAT!?!"

...................

Two months later.

A Rider and a woman with a four year old blonde girl standing at her side hugged in a relaxed embrace. They enjoyed a family moment while looking out from the porch of Meduseld onto the plains of the Mark, the white horse on green standard flapping in the breeze above them.

“I could not bring myself to take my son away from her, even at the risk of her – or her family – making Elfwine hate me, hate you, hate our children. I’ve hurt her enough. He is the only good thing she got from those three years here.”

Eoforhild Queen, with whom Eomer had shared the cloak six years before but kept it a secret to protect her from Grima, hugged him to say that she agreed with his choice. He was a good man. Facing awful choices.

**Author's Note:**

> Cloak marriage by ZeesMuse.  
> Marriage for x and a day - supposedly practiced in e.g. Scottish Hebrides. Google for Handfasting, Scotland. Regardless if the "for a year and one day" handfasting is mythical or not, I've endowed the Eorlings with a "three years and one day version" of it. Children from such a "time limited" marriage are legitimate, and there is no (or not that much) dishonour for the dismissed woman. Maybe stupid or lame, but I've seen much worse ideas in fanfics - sue me :)  
> I am not happy with this fic - I feel that I do not give the reader adequate information about the events. One day I will re-write it to make it clearer.


End file.
